Alterations
by Brindel
Summary: The team makes a discovery...


Title: Alterations  
Author: Brindel  
Challenge: Amnesty Challenge; City Exploration  
Rating: G  
Category: gen  
Word Count: 3,746? (How'd I manage that?)  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: The team makes a discovery.

"McKay?" Major Sheppard shot a quick glance to his six and was somehow completely unsurprised to see an empty corridor. He shook his head.  
It amazes me how someone can manage to get lost in a hallway. That takes special talent.

"Hold up." He called out to Ford and Teyla. "We've lost McKay. Again." Both Ford and Teyla stopped and turned at the command.

"Can't we do something about him?" Ford asked in good-natured exasperation.

"I'm open to any suggestions, Lieutenant."

"A leash? No, I got it. One of those harnesses with the extension cords, the kind mothers use on wandering toddlers."

John and Ford shared a huge grin at the thought.

"Should we not locate Dr. McKay and continue with the search?" murmured Teyla.

The grin faded, but didn't quite leave Sheppard's face. "Yeah, of course. He can't be too far behind us."

A rather disgruntled McKay was currently arguing with the thin air, oblivious to the fact he was alone, since he'd looked up from his Data-Pad exactly twice after the team had left the Control room. 

Walking with his eyes still intent on the Data-Pad, McKay continued the harangue begun the moment the team had left the Control room.

"Now, obviously, having a scientist on these city search missions is vitally important, since I recommended it myself, and, after all, there's no telling what would be overlooked without someone trained to spot these things coming along, but really, what's the point of including the brightest mind in Atlantis on these little jaunts, if you aren't going to actually let me work?"

"I mean, I understand that this is just a preliminary sweep to assess the area and determine general priorities…"

An unexpected 'blerp' from the Data-Pad halted the diatribe mid-sentence.

"Hold on, what's this?"

The hallway that had been stoically enduring McKay's solitary tirade was like any of the several dozen the team had covered so far.

A bright, slightly curved corridor lined with doors at regular intervals, with more of that vaguely "Frank Lloyd Wright of the 25th Century" stained glass artwork interspersed along the way. One of those stained glass pieces was the apparent source of the 'blerp'.

McKay stared up at the artwork and gave it serious scrutiny for the first time since his initial dismissal of the panels in the Gateroom as "pointlessly decorative".

Now, while he still felt the 'Gateroom art' was just that, he wasn't quite so sure he should have been as quick to dismiss all of the panels in the corridors as just more of the same.

As he leaned towards the panel for a closer look, McKay's palm lightly brushed a brownish-red rectangle near the center, and the entire panel silently swung open.

Hel-lo…

McKay swung around excitedly to share his discovery with Major Sheppard, only to find himself completely alone. He stared blankly at the empty hallway for a moment, then felt a faint blush creep across his face.

How long had he been talking to the air? Weren't John and the others supposed to be watching out for him? Weren't they supposed to be a team?

I mean, sure, maybe he'd been dragging his feet a bit about doing these surveys, and maybe he'd complained once or twice before about what an utter waste of his time it was for him to walk down here, find something potentially interesting, then leave it to go back to the control room to report that they'd found something interesting, only to gather together a second team of scientists to come back and look at it again, when he'd just end up doing most of the work anyway, so why not just let him get on with it in the first place?

Okay, so maybe he hadn't been the best company for these trips lately.

But still, to just leave him like that? That was… was… Unprofessional. That's what it was. Fine.

"At least I can do my job properly, even if Sheppard and the others are falling down on theirs. I'll give it one quick glance to check if this worth the trouble, and then call in."

With a mildly affronted glare at the empty hall, McKay stepped into the opened door.

As they rounded a corner, retracing their steps to locate the errant McKay, John pulled up with a start and automatically swung his P-90 up into guard-position at the sight of the wide-open wall panel.

"Hel-lo. Didn't know these things could do that." He remarked quietly to the rest of the team. "Three guesses on where McKay is, and the first two don't count."

Ford snorted softly in response, but Teyla just cocked an eyebrow, and refrained from making any comment.

John smiled to himself and thought Teyla must have quite the collection of "Nonsensical Earth Statements and their Possible Meanings" filed away by now. He wondered what she did with them all.

"McKay?" John called into the slightly bluish light coming from the open door. "McKay? You in there? Respond."

Silence.

Giving a worried frown to both Ford and Teyla, John tapped his comm. "Control, this is Sheppard. We may have a situation."

"Sheppard, this is Control. Can you specify the type of situation? Military, Medical or Scientific?"

"Um, not just yet, Control. But if I was a betting man, I'd guess Scientific."

He was wrong. It was Medical.

McKay blinked as his eyes adjusted to the watery light flaring on as he stepped in and all thought of his righteous indignation at being left behind fled.

A Chair. It was another Chair Room. No, wait. Not quite a Chair, a...a..Bench? Or maybe a Couch?  
Excitement sizzling through him at the possibilities, he tapped his comm. "Major? McKay here. I think I've found something!"

Nothing.

"Major?" Still nothing. "Control, this is McKay. Anybody reading me?" 

Odd. Maybe the room was shielded somehow? Come to think of it, the door was kind of disguised as wall art. Maybe this place was camouflaged for a reason? Hadn't "Old Weir" told them that one of the Ancients, Jerrod? Jervis, had been working on research projects on his own without the Council's consent? Maybe this was one of his labs!

Any thought of caution now totally lost to an intense curiosity, Rodney stepped up on to the platform the "Couch" was centered on.

And that was when things went really wrong.

Gesturing to Ford and Teyla to stay at the door, John took point and stepped into the room, scanning for any sign of McKay. He didn't have to look far.

"Damnit, McKay! What the hell have you gotten into?"

John immediately hit the comm, "Control! Where's that Science team! And I think we're also gonna need a Medical team to our location! Stat!"

No answer.

What the hell?

"Sir!" Ford called out.

"Stay put, Lieutenant! Comm's out in here, see if you can raise Control from there."

"Yes, Sir, they're on comm right now."

"Tell them to get that Science team and a Medical team down here, on the double!"

"Yes, Sir!" Ford responded. "Sir? They want to know if you can tell them what to expect."

"Tell them it's McKay. He... he's in some sort of machine...kinda like one of the Chair devices. They'll see when they get here. I'll see what I can do in the mean time."

"Done."

A few seconds later, he felt more than saw Ford and Teyla come up beside him.

"What is that thing?" asked Ford.

Good question. The "thing" ,as Ford put it, was a shimmering blue force field around a platform in the center of the room. On the platform, strapped down at head, waist, wrists and ankles, McKay lay stretched out on some Ancient version of...the rack apparently.

What was worse were the machines in there with him.

As soon as McKay had stepped up on the platform, there was a loud hum and a bluish-white shield flickered on around the perimeter. Startled, McKay tried to step off, but it was eerily similar to the greenish "personal shield" he'd used before. Pushing against it caused a brief flare of color, but that was all.

Feeling the first edges of panic, McKay ran a quick circuit of the shield. No openings or weak spots. Fighting down the panic, he took a quick inventory.

"No radio in here, so I can't call for help. Didn't ever get back out of the room to contact Sheppard and the rest of the team, so no immediate help from them either. I also can't reach any of the panels I can now see quite clearly on the walls from here to try to deactivate the field." He snorted, disgusted with himself. "Would have been nice to have noticed those earlier. What do I have? Got my Data-Pad, my field vest and my P-90. Great. Of course, the Major must have missed me by now, and the door to the room is still open, so chances are he'll be on his way in no time."

"Still." Rodney thought to himself for a moment. He just knew he was going to get an earful from the Major for going off on his own again and this time he was also going to have to deal with a smug "I told you so" attitude from Sheppard when he got him out of this stupid shield. 

Plus, the whole point to coming in here was to examine the Chair, um, Couch.

He turned to the center of the platform and regarded the device.

So, I might as well make good use of my time while waiting on Sheppard and get some work done. Maybe I can figure out how to shut down the shield myself. That way, at least I won't have to listen to his smug "I told you so".

Rationalization firmly in mind, Rodney walked to the Couch and sat down.

The instant he was down, Rodney realized this was probably one of the worst ideas he'd had since coming to Pegasus. Even worse than the time he agreed, in a momentary fit of desperation, to let the Russians run the environmental control subroutines.

The impromptu snowball fight in the mess hall had been rather fun though.

This, however, was just bad. 

As soon as he sat down, silvery bands had melted out of the Couch and snaked across his forehead, around his waist and over his wrists and ankles. Before he could even think of struggling, the Couch had reclined backward, like the Chair did when activated. Only he was strapped down and the Couch was now stretched out completely flat, like...like some kind of...operating table.

Oh god.

"McKay?" "McKay! Can you hear me?" John circled the shield three times, looking for any button, panel, switch or plug he could push, pull, flip or yank to turn the damn thing OFF with, but found nothing.

He paced the empty room silently; eyes fixed on the blurred form behind the shield.  
He'd sent Ford and Teyla on back to the transporter to lead the Science and Medical teams to the room, since apparently neither comm nor the sensors worked in here, while he stayed behind to make sure nothing else happened to McKay before they got back. 

McKay lay still and pale in the blue light. He looked okay, just unconscious. John was slightly reassured that he could see his chest rise and fall, so he was breathing at least, and he didn't look like he was in any distress. Except for being strapped on a table and having Ancient machinery poking at him doing God only knows what! He thought grimly to himself.

The machines were what had his attention right now. Through the haze of the field, it was hard to make out exactly what was going on in there, but the activity he had seen when he'd first arrived seemed to be slowing down.

So far, he'd seen a greenish yellow scan move up and down his body twice, each time causing McKay to thrash weakly against the straps, and John's hand to tighten on the butt of his P-90, but afterward McKay had calmed down and seemed alright.

What worried him most was the tall, spindly-looking device near McKay's head. It appeared to be attached to the band on McKay's forehead, which could mean it was attached to McKay somehow. It might even be what was keeping him unconscious. Or it could be screwing around with his head in some way he couldn't even see. God. If McKay didn't come out of this thing alright…

He wouldn't even think it, couldn't wrap his head around it, Of course he'll be okay! God, please, just let him be okay. Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, he put one hand on the shield and said aloud, "God, McKay, just be alright".

As if deciding that was their cue, the machines began retracting back into the floor and ceiling and wherever-the-hell-else they'd originally come from. Without any warning, the shield shut itself off.

John, still leaning on a now absent shield, barely caught himself from slamming his jaw onto the edge of the platform, and managed to stagger up onto it instead.

Rushing to McKay's side, he watched as the 'Rack' (as he'd been thinking of it), folded itself up into a more 'Loveseat' kind of arrangement and the straps melted back into the surface.  
Kneeling next to him, he grabbed McKay's wrist and couldn't stop the grin stretching his face as he found a strong, steady pulse under his fingers.

McKay slumped slightly to the side once the bands holding him had retracted and Sheppard shifted his grip from McKay's wrist to his shoulder to stop the slide before he hit the floor.

"Come on, McKay. Open up your eyes for me." He shook the shoulder slightly. "McKay?" 

"Wha..?" McKay blinked and shakily raised one hand to smack at Sheppard. "Please stop that." He murmured softly. "I have got the Grand Vizier of all migraines at the moment." He closed his eyes and started rubbing his forehead where the band had held him.

"McKay!" John shouted gleefully, "You're okay!"  
McKay moaned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut with a grimace. "Well, I was."

They both looked up as they heard the sounds of feet and watched as Beckett, Zelenka, Ford, Teyla and about twenty more assorted scientists and doctors all poured into the room. That seemed quite enough for Rodney for one day and he promptly passed out.

"Would you kindly go away?" McKay brusquely asked the nurse currently drawing more blood. Sheppard had to give her credit, she ignored him utterly, displaying an unruffled calm most people never quite managed to maintain in McKay's presence, and he knew for a fact she'd held her composure quite admirably for the last three hours.

He knew it because he'd been in the Infirmary himself that long, waiting for Beckett to finish the tests on Rodney to see just what had happened to him while he was on the Rack. Or Couch, or whatever.

After the teams had arrived, Beckett and his staff had whisked Rodney onto a waiting gurney and rushed out the door, with John following right behind, rapidly telling Carson everything he knew about what had happened, while Zelenka and the scientists had stayed behind to try to work out what the room was for.

Rodney had come to again rather quickly after reaching the Infirmary and had insisted all he really needed was some aspirin and some "Quiet, Thank you!" But he didn't try to get up and had submitted to all Carson's tests with as much good grace as he ever displayed.

John could tell the experience had left him a little shaky and he seemed to be grateful to be lying down in company with plenty of lights on and lots of people checking on him.

John tilted his head to one side and looked a little harder at Rodney, lying comfortably on the gurney. It was kinda hard to tell, under the hospital gown and the blankets, but he looked …different somehow. His face and body seemed…thinner? And his hair, sticking up in an unusually untidy nest, was maybe a little thicker? than he'd remembered…

Right then Carson stepped around the corner, lab results in hand.

"Well, Rodney, I've run the results several times, and there's no mistake."

"No mistake about what, Doc?" John asked quickly in return, getting an annoyed glare from Rodney, but no comment, since the concern in John's voice was plain to hear.

Carson turned to John with a smile. "There's nothing to be worried about, son, he's fine. In fact, he's better than fine."

"Um, maybe you'd better explain that." Rodney piped up from the gurney.

Carson turned to him. "That's just it, I can't quite explain it, but that's what the tests all say . In fact, do you recall the results I got when I scanned Cheya? Yours are now the same, Rodney."  
"What?" John and Rodney said in unison.

Carson just smiled. "Rodney, you're literally in absolutely perfect health. Everything. Blood pressure, Chem-7 labs, heck, Chem-20 labs, EKG, EEG, every single test I could think of, plus a few more Dr. Morgan thought up." Both men flinched slightly at the mention of the overly enthusiastic pathologist.

"In fact", he continued, "I also ran a check of your DNA, that's what's taken so long, and Rodney? There's no longer any sign of the gene therapy I gave you in your DNA."

Rodney was immediately crestfallen. "It…it removed the gene therapy? I can't use Ancient technology any more?"

Of everything that had happened to him in Pegasus, that idea hit him unaccountably hard. Bad enough to have only had the shaky, iffy connection with the city that the therapy had provided, but too lose even that tenuous connection, to have it ripped away by the very city itself, seemed unaccountably like betrayal.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. "Well," he began," if the therapy worked once before, we'll just have to do it again, that's all."

"No, no, no Rodney, you don't understand!" Carson was grinning widely now. "The markers for the gene therapy are gone because the machine …device …procedure …whatever, has spliced the ATA gene directly into your genome! Rodney, don't you get it! This treatment has made you as close to an actual Ancient as a human can get! You're quite possibly more closely related to the Ancients than Sheppard, now."

He shot from the depths of black despair to the heights of sheer exultant wonder so fast, Rodney actually felt hit with a wave of vertigo.

"What..?" He said faintly. 

"Yes!" Carson was almost as excited as Rodney. "This machine evidently reads a person's DNA and makes the best possible version of that genome that it can. It took the additional piece and apparently decided to include that as well. Along the way, it 'cleaned up' any other abnormalities it came across. It's some sort of, some sort of,…"

He seemed at a loss and glanced over at John, who had been listening with an unreadable expression on his face and who had suddenly started laughing.

"Some sort of Ancient Beauty Parlor!" he announced with a laugh. "That's what McKay's found!" He snickered. "Feeling less than your best? Give your genome a good rinse and cut!"

McKay glanced at Beckett and rolled his eyes. "Leave it to an American to equate perfection with physical beauty. And besides, what kind of beauty parlor imprisons its clients? And then there's the whole 'hard to find' bit. Not exactly conductive to a booming business. Makes one wonder. Carson, are you sure I'm okay? I'm not going to do some sort of, of 'Flowers for Algernon' thing and regress to normal in a few weeks?"   
Beckett grinned at the worry in Rodney's voice at the thought of being normal, and opened his mouth to speak. Rodney beat him to the punch.

"Allergies!" he said excitedly, briskly double-snapping his fingers. "I wonder if it cured my allergies!" His face fell as another thought occurred to him. "Or maybe it thought they were some sort of defense mechanism and made them worse?"

"I highly doubt that, Rodney, but if it makes you fell better I can run an allergy panel on you as well."

"Yes, Major?" he asked, glancing at the man who was standing on the other side of the bed looking increasingly agitated.

"He had a point, back there somewhere." John said, giving McKay an affectionately exasperated look. "Why hide it and use a force field, if it's so benign? Are you sure he's okay? Is he even, you know, him?"

"Well, he certainly sounds like himself." Beckett replied with a grin. "I imagine it was hidden because some of the Ancients might have had a problem with the moral implications of altering the genome so radically. You do realize, It could be used to essentially turn anyone into an Ancient. Say the Genii? Or any of the other races in this galaxy. I can see why the Ancients might not have wanted this piece of technology to be too widely known. Though it's possible it could have been used as some sort of 'reward' or high honor, to make someone they felt 'worthy' capable of joining the Ancients as a citizen?

We'll likely never know for sure. As to the force field, it's probably for the client's protection, to prevent interruption before the process is complete." He turned to Rodney. "Nevertheless, I'd like you down here for complete checkups. Oh, say, every other day for the next three weeks." 

Rodney glared at him. "Well that's reassuring. I suppose you'll want to do more bloodwork, you vampire."

"Don't worry, Doc." Sheppard said with a smirk. "I'll make sure 'Superman' here gets to his checkups. Seeing as I'll be spending the next couple of weeks drilling with him after hours in the gym."

"What?" McKay asked incredulously.

"Oh, yeah. Now that you're in "perfect health", you don't have any excuse for avoiding the training sessions. Especially if you're going to keep wandering off, no matter how often I tell you to stay with the team."

What! Major, I did not "wander off", you carelessly left me behind..."

Carson smiled and thought, "Another ordinary day in Atlantis." as he slipped out of the alcove, leaving the reassuring sound of their bickering for the quiet of his office.


End file.
